


Team Cohesion

by TrulyCertain



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 19:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21021113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrulyCertain/pseuds/TrulyCertain
Summary: Macready’s swearing under his breath at a bleeding wound on his shoulder, reaching stubbornly to tie his boots anyway. (Sometimes Adam thinks they have a little too much in common.) But that and the lack of insults are… not what Adam’s having trouble taking his eyes off of.For the prompt: "Someone seeing scars you didn't want them to see."





	Team Cohesion

Adam’s stretching his arms, listening to the whirr of servos and feeling plates rearrange and still trying not to show his surprise. Sure, today Macready pissed him off what feels like another hundred times, but he also clapped him on the shoulder and told him “at least you didn’t fuck it up too much.” That’s… a compliment. Maybe. And there’s been less glaring from the ground team. He’ll take what he can get.  
  
Adam generally tries to get out of the locker room as soon as possible, or find something else to do and be the last out – either works, as long as he’s not there with people staring at the augs or Macready making some asshole comment. Fewer of those, though, since Apex. Maybe saving their boss had that effect, or maybe Macready’s too damn tired to think of some crack about his shininess or his hair or his taste in coffee.  
  
Adam tries to be the last out, but this time, he doesn’t quite make it.  
  
He’s always caught between not doing maintenance and biocell replacement around others, if he can avoid it, and stubbornly doing it anyway. Now, more than ever, when everyone likes to pretend augs don’t exist. It tends to freak people out. Hell, freaked him out enough first time he opened up his entire arm and stared at its steel skeleton. But he’s exhausted and he’d rather make it home without the uncomfortable low-energy burn. He’s heading out of the showers, slacks on and shirt in his hand, half-checking the hacking nodes and opening up the cell port, when he looks up -   
  
\- and sees Macready. Great.  
  
Self-consciousness prickles up his spine. As always, half of him wants to not give a shit, to just stand there and make Macready deal with the fact he exists, black metal and all. But he’s not in the mood. He almost shoves his shirt on and walks out, but there’s...  
  
Macready’s swearing under his breath at a bleeding wound on his shoulder, reaching stubbornly to tie his boots anyway. (Sometimes Adam thinks they have a little too much in common.) But that and the lack of insults are… not what Adam’s having trouble taking his eyes off of.   
  
Adam looks at the livid scratches next to Macready’s ribs. Old. Couple years old, probably. Looks away and is a little too slow about it.  
  
Macready glances up at him, guarded, and then pulls the knots a little too hard. “Anyone ever told you not to stare? It’s rude.”  
  
There are indents, little chunks of skin gone. Adam tries not to look at his own hands, because he recognises the shapes, formations of five like screwed-up constellations. Metal fingerprints.  
  
“I, uh. Sorry.” He looks away, hastily, and heads back to the benches. He’s unzipping the bag for his gear and taking out the old biocell, shoving in a new one and listening to the hum of it activating, when Macready speaks.  
  
“The Incident. Someone I was talking to went a little crazy on me at the time. And then someone else.” Mac tilts his head and adds sardonically, “And then someone _else_. There were a lot of someone elses.”  
  
Jesus. “I’m sorry,” Adam says again, quietly, staring at them.  
  
Macready snorts. “It’s not like _you_ did it. I know you’re an aug, but stop being a fucking martyr.”  
  
Adam gets back to sorting through his gear, finds his coat on the wall and checks for the packet of smokes he usually keeps in the right front pocket. Good for making excuses to leave. Or making it clear he’s not in the mood to talk.   
  
Smokes found. He tells himself he can get out of here and not deal with this in a second.  
  
He throws on his shirt, knowing too well what Macready must think when he sees Typhoon parts and combat chassis. “I used to… worry about it.” He doesn’t know why he says it. Not like he’s gonna get a sympathetic audience, but some stupid part of him… keeps trying. “After Sa – “ He clears his throat. “After I got augmented.”  
  
Macready raises an eyebrow, mouth twisting sardonically and shifting that scar. “What, accidentally breaking someone in half?”  
  
Adam swallows, and tries not to let exactly that image enter his head, the way it did so often back then. The way it still does, some nights, when he fails to drown it with whiskey. “Took chunks out of concrete just trying to get to a bathroom.” _Shit, it all breaks so easily now. What the hell have they - _“I didn’t want to be...”  
  
“A monster?” A harsh sound that isn’t even a laugh. “What did you do, just not touch anyone for, what was it, six months?”  
  
Adam shrugs, and doesn't glance up. “Saw a physiotherapist. Couple nurses. Mostly they were augmented.”  
  
“Other than that? What about when you got back to work?”  
  
Adam shrugs again, and pulls on his boots. He figures it’d be a little too obvious if he used reflex mods to lace them, but it’s suddenly kind of tempting.  
  
The silence grows. “Jesus Christ. You really are fucked-up, Jensen, you know that?”  
  
Snorting, Adam says, “Yeah, I’ve heard.”  
  
“I take it you got rather more control than that, in the end.” When Adam looks up and raises an eyebrow, challenging, Macready says, “You’re here, aren’t you?”  
  
Adam tilts his head, conceding that.   
  
He’s standing when he hears, “And I take it those hurt like a bitch.” At Adam’s questioning look, Mac draws a shallow V across his own collarbones. The shape of the support struts. “And the rest.”  
  
Adam takes down his coat and shrugs it on, putting up the collar. Damn cold wind when they were coming in; he guesses it’s still the same. He says sardonically, “Got 70% of my body replaced. Little bit.” He watches Mac’s eyebrows shoot up. “You getting the shoulder checked out?”  
  
Mac looks to it, and sighs. “Jen always says I should visit more often.” He grabs for his own shirt, putting it on with a grunt of pain. “And Miller’ll have my head if I come in with gangrene.”  
  
Adam’s mouth twitches, before he can help it. “Yeah, he will. See you, Macready.” He starts to head out.  
  
“Jensen?”  
  
He turns.  
  
Mac’s eyes meet his, and Adam would say they’re sincere, but he’s not sure that’s a thing Macready does. “Good work out there.”  
  
He nods, trying not to look too surprised.  
  
“Yeah, now sod off and buy yourself a drink. I’m not making a habit of saying it.”  
  
He just grins, and then turns to climb the stairs. None of this is easy – it never is – but yeah: he’ll take what he can get.


End file.
